


Got no Reason yet to Die

by Innocentfighter



Series: Run [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Apparently I can't tag wtf, Caring Bones, Depression, Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt Jim, Jim Centric, McCoy talks to most, Medical Procedures, Medical Trauma, Minor Injuries, Neglect, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Running Away, Tarsus IV, Worried Leonard McCoy, mentioned - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 15:10:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5590921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Innocentfighter/pseuds/Innocentfighter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is familiar ground. He's used to running. It's what he's always done, it's the only thing his brother ever taught him. Run and don't look back. You'll survive that way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Got no Reason yet to Die

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact, this isn't a very happy story.
> 
> I really have no excuse. I found it in an old folder and its a prompt fill, but I have no idea what the prompt was or who prompted it, but it was something like "Jim didn't want to be saved" so there's this, and its technically the second part of a trilogy I'm gonna write, but it can be read as a stand alone, the first part is explaining something I mention in the fic and then the next part is... Well I have no excuse. I miss these kids. Who else is excited for Star Trek Beyond? See you at the bottom!
> 
> Also I'm bitter about the lack of Bones and Jim friendship, so this is kind of centered on that (STID I'm looking at you)
> 
> And yes the title is from Somebody to Die For - Hurts

He runs. The first moment that he's able to, when Bones lets him out of Medical and Spock isn't nearby. He packs up his things with skill and sets out, not leaving a note behind. Then when he reaches the deserted street below he sprints. His legs screaming because they still hadn't recovered and lungs burning. Still he runs until he's in a part of town no one cares that he's the _Hero of Earth._ He buys a ticket for whatever bus is next. He doesn't care about the destination, just that he's out. Just that he's gone.

This is familiar ground. He's used to running. It's what he's always done, it's the only thing his brother ever taught him.

Run and don't look back. You'll survive that way.

* * *

The first time Jim runs, its away from home. It was finally too much, Frank beat him one too many times. That night he packed a bag, forged paperwork, and went to find his aunt and uncle on a new colony planet.

The first time he ran away, he ran straight to Tarsus IV.

It was as far away as a boy his age could get. An entire system away. No one would know who he was and his aunt and uncle wouldn't know why he was there.

From the first step he could already tell that this place would be different from Iowa, despite the similarity in looks all sprawling fields and dirt backroads. He guessed what they growing were potatoes, most colonies start out growing potatoes. It was thanks to one NASA astronaut from two-hundred years ago proving spuds could grow anywhere, and now it was standard practice. He couldn't think of the name of that man at the moment.

He laughed to himself, it was the first time that he could worry about things as frivolous like some historic figure's name. Maybe he could relax here.

For a time he felt like he had successfully fled and didn't have to continue running, that this was his finish line. Here he was just a too smart kid with a cocky personality. The injuries were from falling from trees instead of being shoved down steps. On this planet he could ask for seconds without being told that he was an ungrateful greedy brat.

The sun shone so bright it was like the shadow of his name couldn't exist.

He could breathe.

* * *

Jim climbed onto the bus and picked a spot in the back in the corner across from the door, watching everyone that came on board.

There was a young boy and his mother. The boy was rubbing at his eyes, and his mother was muttering about how he could sleep on the bus. Then a pretty and young feminine climbed up the stairs. They were alien, if the pink skin and cat-like eyes were anything to go buy.

The next person was an old man using a cane, clearly choosing the walking aid over medical attention. The mother moved her son so that the old man didn't have to climb up the stairs. The alien feminine stood up and offered to trade places with the lady so her son could have his own seat.

No one else got on the bus. Jim, satisfied that there weren't any threats in the fifteen people he was riding with, turned his attention towards the window resting his forehead on the glass and staring out at the rain slick street.

The puddles reflected the blackness of the night back at him.

* * *

The second time he ran away was when the genocide happened. It was a forced flight, he was on the kill list. It was stay and die or run and pray, he still had fight left in him. The moment that the guards opened fire, Jim was out of square. He was only thirteen but he knew enough, it'd help him survive.

Several other kids had the same idea as him, they were younger than him. He often wondered if they were just following him because he was older. Since the older you are the more you know. Age demanded respect. Something along the lines, he knew for certain it wasn't because he was some kind of born-leader.

He ran away, and he taught other kids to run away as well.

They were his legacy, the twenty lives he save that day. He ran and they followed. This was his first taste of leadership, the mantle thrust upon him... it fit awkwardly. He didn't stop running, only slowed down enough that everyone could keep up with him.

He ran through the woods and he ran away from the houses he stole from. His feet carried him from the chasing guards and prowling beasts. They ran him straight into a cave he nearly called their home.

There was no way he could let fatigue claim him and let him stay.

For a year he didn't stop running, Kodos kept looking for him and his crew. He often thought about the cave that he passed up. Though he knew that stopping then would've been their death. He learned to not care for himself above those below him. He learned to run at the back of the pack when they had to flee picking up stragglers.

For a time he was able to fully run from the name he carried. He wasn't named for unknown grandfathers and he didn't have the last name of a hero. He was just J.T.

J.T didn't run away from anything, he was brave. He was a fighter. He was a leader.

But his brother's lesson still hung in his head. Run and don't look back. You'll survive that way.

And so he did. He survived Tarsus IV, so did eight other kids out of the original twenty. They stopped running. He didn't.

* * *

The bus took off, and Jim continued staring out of the window. Buildings passed by, some familiar and some not. He cringed when he passed Starfleet's base. He was due to report to one of the admiral's first thing in the morning. It wasn't an order, and he wasn't on active duty so this couldn't get him kicked out.

Not that it mattered. He was running away and not coming back (he hoped, there was always a chance for court martial).

The woman was singing to her son (an old tune he recognized from when his aunt would put him to bed), and the old man had apparently found some common ground with the alien, they were talking to each other animatedly. The person closest to him had headphones in and was glued to their PADD.

He returned his gaze outside of the wind. They were still passing the Starfleet compound, he could still think about it until it was completely gone.

In the distance he saw the Medical compound, and even further the huge engineering bay.

Jim wondered if the Enterprise was there, or if they were just assembling her parts there. Was Scotty watching over her? He probably was, no harm could come to his lady while he was there.

With a shake of his head Jim cleared thoughts of the jovial engineer out of his head. A few more seconds and Starfleet was completely out of his eyesight. It was time to leave that behind him as well.

Start a new leg of this race he called a life.

He knew that he was likely going to run straight back to that godforsaken farm in Iowa, even though he told himself that he would never go back, that he couldn't.

When he ran away the last time he promised that he wouldn't go back no matter what. That he wouldn't need to flee to the worst place for him.

In the end, he'd always been a liar.

His brother told him don't look back. He never thought about what caused him to run away from there, it was the starting point of all the parts of his life.

He was tied to the place, and yet it was the place that he had run from most often.

Almost mockingly his brother's words floated into his head. Run and don't look back. You'll survive that way.

Look at where that had gotten him.

* * *

When he returned to earth, he ran from the Starfleet base that he had been brought to for medical attention (both physical and mental). He ran straight to the nearest transport, and right back to the place he had run from originally.

His mom had greeted him somewhat warmly. She hadn't ignored him like she had done for the first twelve years of his life. Jim wondered how long it took them to realize that he was actually gone. It was a curt hello because she was on her way to her next assignment,

Frank had greeted him with a empty beer bottle aimed for his head but instead passing him by due to drunken aim, but it was still near enough to be a threat.

He thought about turning around and running back to the Starfleet base, but he didn't want to see the pity they'd give him as a Tarsus survivor.

He stayed.

However the first chance that he got he ran into the the first welcoming bed that he could find, it happened when he was sixteen. Frank's words about the waste-of-space boy coming back hitting him hard and the comments about how he shouldn't have come back (somehow he thought Frank was referring to the death he was supposed to have meant on that planet) when he came in late one night.

That night he learned his value came from the pleasure that he could give other people, just like on Tarsus he learned to always put himself last.

The next thing he ran from was from the beds he stayed in. He was gone the next morning before they woke up, most of the time it was right after they fell asleep. He didn't do the same twice in a row, some people he visited more than once because they were particularly good but there was months in between the visits. He didn't want to be tethered to anyone or anything

He spent another year running from Frank, and also from bed to bed. It wasn't a good life, but it was better than post-fungus Tarsus.

Then he was running from the farm again, at seventeen there was nothing left for him. He had gone an mouthed off at Frank and this time instead of taking the blows he fought back. Before his step-father could kick him out he ran out.

It wasn't a change, him leaving before it got too bad. Before it was so much more than he could handle.

He ran to the road and until some kind stranger picked him and took him to the next destination. He made sure to pay back the kindness.

Run and don't look back. You'll survive that way.

At this point he wasn't sure why he even bothered surviving at all.

* * *

His head thumped against the window as they traveled down the highways. They weren't actually touching the road, but the engine was old enough that there was still some vibrations.

Likely they had been traveling for some hours, it was late at night, but he couldn't fall asleep. He was surrounded by strangers in a transport driven by a stranger he didn't know. There was no way he could rest especially since there were people getting on and off every few hours at stations. And they could watch him sleep, he pulled his jacket around him tighter.

It was good he paid for the end destination, they had taken the long way out of California and were somewhere in Nevada now. The mother and son had gotten off early and a teen in a hoodie was hunched in the seat holding a ratty backpack to his chest got on in their place. He remembered that. Jim glanced down at his duffle bag.

The old man had dozed off and the alien was now reading an actual book. He was surprised, paper books were hard to comeby, and expensive. He owned a few back at the-.

He stopped that train of thought. He couldn't think of it.

He need to run and not look back. It was the only way he knew how to survive.

The bus took off once more and he watched the desert pass them by.

* * *

It was only two years later that he was running back to Iowa. Only it was more like limping back. His time in Chicago had taught him a few things. He'd let himself get tied down with a pretty girl, which turned out to be a mistake when she had nearly dislocated his shoulder for helping another lady with her packages, and when she had slapped and bitched at him for minor things. He'd stayed though, because she was the only person to show kindness of her own free-will.

The red flags were there but he was tired of running.

Then it got too bad for him to handle, which caused him to scurry off to the only place that would give him the starting line for his next race.

There was another reason that he was coming back, an excuse to buy him time from _her_ , his mother had passed away suddenly. While shie would never be mother of the year, she was still his mother.

Frank wouldn't do anything at her funeral, despite the drunkenness and abuse, he did love her.

He'd stay the night at the farm and then he'd be off, maybe out east.

The night he got back to the farm it went worse than even he expected. He ran off to the first bar that he could find, the one that would serve him even though he technically wasn't of age, but close enough.

Naturally a pretty lady caught his attention, not enough for him to actually let her get far with him, he was done with encounters for a while since the last one had ended as badly as it did. But there were people in the bar that he knew, which was oddly filled with cadets, and he had to keep up his image of the flirtatious man.

For his trouble he got napkins up the nose.

The man, Pike, offered him a place to run to, a place where he could prove who he was and that he wasn't someone to be pitied. A light to step out of George's shadow. Only problem was that the flight left the day of his mother's funeral, he had to make his choice.

It was easy. He ran away from the pain that his step-father and neglect his mother gave to him all his life. This was his fresh start. Now he was running too something.

He rushed to the shuttle once he was sober and could see enough to drive. The shuttle was leaving from the outside of town, and he barely made it.

Sitting down he saw others who were fresh faced and wide eyed, that had lived in comfort (there were probably a few with stories, Uhura for one), He expected to be the pirah, which wasn't something new, but then a commotion arose.

The man was clearly freaked out and down on his luck. Jim knew that feeling, and then he caught the look in the man's eyes. He was running too.

Instincts kicked in, he sensed an ally. The man would likely be more receptive to someone who understood life. And Jim wasn't one to waste assets.

Besides Bones seemed like a person he would like even if he wasn't running away to be someone he probably wasn't.

At least he'd only have George's shadow to live in and not the bruises from Frank.

Maybe it was time that he could stop running, he knew it was unlikely, but _maybe_ he was still drunk enough for hope.

* * *

The bus pulled into its final destination. It was somewhere in the northeastern part of Colorado. It was some nondescript town that he hadn't heard of and likely would never hear about again.

He asked where the train station was. Traveling the same way was the way people caught up to you and figured out where you were going.

The town was a sleepy one, in the early morning there was hardly a soul awake. Even the bars were the type to close up early.

It was a nice place and part of him wishes he could slow down long enough that he could properly enjoy what the place has to offer. But he's in full flight mode now, distance is the priority.

Who would've thought he'd be the one to run away? He was the man who faced everything with a cocky grin and a suicidal plan. The man people think he is would call running a coward's move. It wasn't cowardice, not fully. It was survival.

* * *

For the first time in a long time he felt like he had a place to call home. By some miracle he got placed into a room with Bones. The man wasn't happy first claiming he was old enough to not need a roomie, that he'd done his time back in med school, but it was more bark than bite.

Jim wondered if he was secretly glad to have someone to share a room with.

The semester flew by and he was surprised at how well he was doing in his classes. Good enough that he still had time to do his usual running from bed to bed.

Bones was disgruntled but he didn't say anything. Jim was glad, the doctor would even check over him after a particularly suspect partner.

It worked. He was settling down enough that he didn't think he'd need to run anymore.

Then his birthday came around. It was never a happy time, maybe it was once on Tarsus but that place was beyond words. Jim still struggled not to throw up when he thought about it. Most times he figured he didn't because he remembered how bad it was to vomit when there was no food left.

For the first time he didn't think his birthday would be so bad, but then the academy had to do a damn tribute to the _USS Kelvin_.

He didn't go. The moment he heard about it he ran back to his room. Fled from the class he was attending, fully intending to pack a bag for a few days.

Bones was there and on his feet saying something about hyperventilation. He could feel the concern roll of the doctor.

One look at the man had Jim clawing for the door, not sure where he was heading. Thoughts about the nearest dive floated in. He couldn't be near someone who cared about him again, he still had scars from the last time that happened.

Then Bones' hand was on his shoulder and all thoughts of fleeing left his mind,for once, it was blissfully blank. Jim looked back at Bones. He knew what this was. The doctor probably wanted to repay him for helping him on his anniversary. He could handle payment.

It was the first time someone stopped him from running. It was enough to make his policy void for the first time ever. He survived even after looking back.

He told Bones the story, not the entire thing, no one would ever know the entire thing. In return he learned that while the doctor was familiar with the story of the Kelvin he hadn't made the connection about the last names. It was even more of a surprise (and slightly nerve wracking) when Bones got _pissed_ about Frank, went on a rant (there was probably something deeper there but he wasn't able to figure it out). Jim didn't say anything about Tarsus or Chicago or Sam's policy. He couldn't bring himself too, not yet. He'd shown too much of himself already.

When he finally realized what he had done he stood up and bolted. Bones didn't move to stop him, but it wasn't like all of the other times. He knew that Bones knew he needed to get away. For a moment he stumbled, there was a place he could be _safe._

It terrified him, he didn't know how it happened.

He stayed in three separate beds that weekend.

He ran to survive, it's what he did but this time he had someone to run back to.

* * *

The train took him to the Missouri-Iowa border. This time when he got off he headed out on foot. It had been days since he left, his absence was noted and they would be looking for him. At least he assumed that they would be. It'd be a first. He picked up his pace, his skin crawling. He hated being out in the open, there would be little to hide behind if a firefight started.

Then he realized he left his phaser behind.

Civilians didn't carry phasers. He wasn't a Starfleet Officer.

Jim did his best to take what little cover he could find. Hating the feeling of being exposed. His pace was even, not wanting to exhaust himself before he reached somewhere to stay for the time being. He felt confident enough that he had put enough distance in between him and California.

Early morning air tore at his lightly clothed skin. He pulled his leather jacket closer to him and hefted his duffle bag higher on his shoulder and continued on.

The highway was empty and had long cracks running down beside it. Not unlike most roads in Iowa. It reminded him of the one a few miles from the farm; the very same one he and Sam had traveled down. Trying to get away.

Trying to survive.

He shook his head. Dwelling in the past isn't what he did. It pay didn't look back. Instead he shifted his gaze upwards and saw a sign indicating a town was nearby. The population count was small enough that people would notice a stranger, but still big enough that most people wouldn't see his face, especially if he only stayed long enough to get rested and stock up on food.

Jim picked up his pace.

* * *

After he talked with Bones, there was a tremendous shift in his life, he stopped running from things but towards things. He ran towards the doctor after their separate classes. Hell he even ran to his classes..

They never talked about his birthday or what he said, and Jim was grateful for that. There wasn't much else that he could say or elaborate on without saying the whole thing. Finally he felt like he left his past in the dust and that it was settled.

He was done with having to run from things.

Of course he couldn't stop running. Stopping had never boded well.

Then there was Spock. The vulcan was everything he had never gotten along with, cold and logical a person who plays by the rules. Those were the people that ignored him on Tarsus, and they were the people that stood by while Frank terrorized him. Spock even had the audacity to speak of George to him, like he didn't know of the sacrifice. Like the Kelvin's destruction was a no-win scenario. Those don't exist.

He said as much.

Spock didn't seem impressed, instead he said that he didn't understand the lesson that the test was trying to teach. That he didn't know fear in the face of certain death.

He knew death. He knew certain death (and he had survived). He didn't fear it so long as he could keep running.

The vulcan distress signal came through saving him from a potentially devastating blow. Or so he thought.

His name wasn't called and he was grounded, Bones, the man that he had run to for the past three years was going to a place where there was no chance of him catching up. All he could do he stand and wait. It felt like the Earth dropped out from beneath him.

He turned and took a deep breath and walked briskly, muscles tightening ready to sprint.

Once more Bones was grabbing at his shoulder, stopping him and causing him to look back. The doctor was offering him a chance to at least see what's beyond Earth, if not as a captain (or a runaway kid). He had two choices, he turned towards Bones and followed him.

* * *

He was right about the place. Walking into town he could see the reserved gazes he got from those who were braving the chilly afternoon. They didn't seem hostile, but his nerves were on fire being watched like some specimen. There was nothing to protect them from looking, no starfleet badge or being a scowling drunk or even his own haunted demeanor. He dropped all of that when he ran each time.

Even though the scowling drunk might become a thing in the near future.

At least the town had an inn. It was run by a pretty brunette, she was older, motherly, but all too trusting. Where most people would have turned him away on account of him looking like (being) an unfavorable, she treated him like a college kid on his way home for break (she even asked what he studied).

He didn't correct her.

She gave him a room and told him that he could come down for dinner with her and her husband if he wanted to.

Jim politely declined saying he'd rather be alone because he was tired. It wasn't a lie, and he needed to stock up on somethings if he was going to return to the farm. Namely medical supplies and nonperishable food for when Frank changed the replicator codes to punish him and because being without food was something he didn't want to repeat.

This wasn't his first return trip. Frank would be pissed and he'd be lucky to escape with only a broken arm. He wouldn't fight back this time.

His fighting was done. He finished it four weeks ago.

Suddenly stopped walking and his knees felt shaky, too weak for him to stand up on them. He pressed his back to the concrete wall. The ground swirled and he landed on his ass. Forehead resting on his knees and hands tugging at his hair harshly.

He was breathing in air that burned again. His skin felt like it was once more being melted and his hand was starting to sag. People passed him by but it sounded muted, his head was buzzing with the sound of an active warp core, and his throat was stuck on thick air. He noted that his heart was pounding, trying to push blood through shrunken arteries. His eyes watered drying out rapidly.

It was easy to figure out what was happening, and with everything that he was he was fighting his mind's pull to have him relive those fourteen hellish minutes. He pushed up, his chest twisting and knees wobbly and ran. Buildings looked like silver slats and piping.

It took him a few steps to get his stride right, feeling like a newborn foal, but then he got his footing and he was off. Trying to out run his own mind, the only thing he couldn't run from, but what he's tried to run from his entire life.

A park was what greeted him when he finally collapsed still not having his legs and breathing under his control. He was fighting with everything that he had to not relive those moments. One of the most excruciating things that he had ever experienced.

His past was trying to catch up to him. And it was succeeding.

He was running but he wasn't sure he was going to survive.

* * *

The Narada incident had him running all over the place, but only in the physical sense. This was the one time he knew his direction completely and focused on it. Running would show weakness and get so many more people killed.

This time running wouldn't be what kept him alive. It was his skill and his crew. And wasn't that an odd thought?

He knew that he needed to be the leader once more. They weren't desperate enough for J.T, he hoped they never were. It was funny that the only time he felt grounded was when he sat in the center chair and took control floating in some far reach of space.

Like this is where he was meant to end up, like he crossed the finish line finally and that he finished his last race when he ran to Starfleet.

He wasn't as beat up about as he thought he would. Now was the time to live and not to just survive.

To everyone he was the over-confident Kirk who was captain because of a technicality and didn't know what he was doing. The last part wasn't anything new. But he wouldn't let them die. If there were any casualties it'd be over his dead body.

Old Spock had probably put that thought in his head when they mindmelded. But the him that was supposed to be wasn't as different as him now. Maybe the old him had a lot less need to hold himself together with duct tape.

The Narada incident ended with few casualties and the senior crew had given him a respect that he didn't think he deserved.

When they hit the ground of San Francisco, any urge that he had ever had to run before it let himself get hurt was gone.

That was his final turn and this was his straightaway that he could take a brisk walk if he wanted too.

* * *

There was no one in the park near enough to see him to see what he was doing, so he didn't feel as crappy when he vomited what little he had eaten. His entire body was trembling. The feeling wasn't unknown to him, all the times Frank hit the bottle too hard and anytime he heard the name Kodos. He had been unsteady but still able to run. To survive.

But now he couldn't.

He was tired of running. He'd done it his whole life, but he had a year of "peace", where any urge that he had to run was _gone_. Surprisingly he didn't want to run. This was where he was supposed to belong.

Jim was breaking every rule that he had ever had, to not look back, to keep running, to survive no matter the personal cost. He needed to look ahead, but now his best years were behind him and if he wanted to look back at them then the price was to look at _everything._

What had happened after he died? The details were still fuzzy for him. He remembered Spock's look of loss and rage and Scotty's all consuming grief, maybe Uhura's tear streaked face. The words that he said to Spock rattled around in his head. His last wall fell when he did.

Now he realized that he was running to his death, he had been scared and confused and that was the only thing that he could think to do. The entire time Khan was a threat... When he lost the ship. death had been the only finish line in his life, he should've know that. He picked up his pace when Pike died and when Scotty quit and when Khan continuously threatened his crew (and maybe even when he started to fail them.) When the admiral aimed his gun at the Enterprise the first thought in his mind had been for his crew, that he needed them to live, he could vaguely make out a finish line. He couldn't make out the end until he was in the warp chamber and suddenly he was sprinting over the edge of a cliff.

Then, when he finally breathed that last strangled breath he thought it'd be done. That it was then end. He was okay with that, he was ready to accept whatever came after life, if there was anything.

There was a sharp pinching feeling on his wrist and he realized that he had moved one of his hands and was held the skin between his nails, blood came to the surface.

The pain grounded him for one sobering moment. Enough that he could pick himself off of the ground and straighten out his shirt, something that was nondescript and definitely not yellow.

When he had bolted from Starfleet he had thought it was because they had seen him at his weakest. Now he knew it because part of him had _wanted_ to die, that he could finally rest for the first time in his life (maybe this feeling was what he was running from).

All that year was was a check point, a place he could get water and catch his breath. He'd be running for the rest of his life he knew it.

Run and don't look back. You'll survive that way. The words mocked him.

He realize now that all his running had just prolonged his life and let him be hurt _. Tarsus, Frank, Chicago, Starfleet,_ they had all hurt him but if he stopped then he would've died.

It was simple, he didn't to be alive, that's why he ran this time. Not because they hurt him, but because he would hurt them. He was done. He was tired.

It was enough. He'd done enough. Suffered enough.

* * *

The next two days he spent heading back to Riverside. After the episode in the park he had gone and gotten what he needed, slept off the remainder of the shaky edginess and set off. In the next town he caught the bus that took him straight to Riverside. No use in prolonging the inevitable.

An old lady that had been there since he was young was getting something from the store next to the bus station and gave him a friendly wave. Clearly surprised to see him back.

Jim knew that it was inevitable that he end up back here. If anything did happen, it'd be all on Frank. The entire town knew what he did, they'd write it off and let the drunk kill himself with liver failure.

Sure he could save himself, but he had never done that. Instead of trying to that he ran into dangerous situation after dangerous situation. Saving himself should be easy, he'd saved the world twice and part of the galaxy. He stopped a war.

He just always ran. Part of him knew it was because he didn't want to be saved. He didn't deserve to live. This wasn't the life he was meant to have so why live it to a happy completion. The life he was meant to have already reached its conclusions.

Frank's farm was only fifteen miles outside of town, he'd be there by evening.

Jim passed by the holoscreen store and saw that the news was playing but nothing scrolled by about his apparent disappearance. Just more things he already knew about Khan and the Admiral.

Why would they bother looking for him?

The sun was barely setting when he stood at the end of the old gravel driveway. This was the place it had all begun, the old farmhouse still stood proud. It was well taken care of despite the horrors that had happened behind the red-painted door.

Once more he shifted the backpack and strolled up to the door like he owned the place. Jim didn't bother knocking, Frank would be pissed either way and it was _always_ better to catch him off guard.

With his usual arrogance he flung the door open, some greeting was tumbling off his lips.

Frank turned, eyes blinking slowly. His face turned from one of drunken bliss to one of pure rage. The half full bottle was once more flying towards his head. It was only by his training that he avoided the bottle crashing directly into his face. Jim took the seconds of confusion that Frank had about not hearing a pained grunt and bolted up the stairs.

This was familiar. If he stayed here longer, this place would be his end. Though, if he was honest with himself he had already died, he was just waiting for his body to give out again.

Knowing what absolute serenity was, it was something that he couldn't shake off. Something he wanted to have again.

He had never wanted for much.

All he had ever wanted was to stop running.

* * *

It was only a few days into his return that he notice Frank was actively avoiding him. No screaming or fire-stokers aimed at his ribs. Even the perpetual booze smell was fading.

Honestly, this was more terrifying than a pissed of drunk Frank. Jim couldn't predict his motives. So he stayed in his room eating his non perishables.

Finally, on the sixth day that he was home the dam broke. Frank came barging into his room, his stride steady marking he was a sober man. His voice was gruff and angry. Jim took the insults and hits easily. Sober Frank hit harder and more accurate than drunk Frank. Still he didn't fight bac.

He wasn't sure why his step-father was beating him completely sober. This wasn't the pattern, but this time he wasn't going to follow the pattern.

Then it clicked. The beating he was getting now was years of anger that came from skipping out on his mother's funeral and joining the one thing she detested above all else on that same day.

Jim hadn't realize how shitty that move actually was. All he had wanted to do was get away again, and that was his chance. He didn't regret joining, he met his senior bridge crew he had four years of no longer running. He was centered and stable.

There he had been _safe, loved, cherished._ And with this last stunt he had thrown it all away. The stunt of course referred to how he had willingly run into the warp core. Everything after that had been done by a dead man, his actions were negligible. All Frank was doing was pushing his body to the limit.

A particularly sharp blow caused him to crumple to the ground, still conscious but dizzy. Frank raised his foot and came down on his ankle, hard enough felt something slide, and a searing pain. He felt more and more kicks coming at him, from above him and from the side. Though he just laid on the ground and took them. Several of his ribs gave way and he coughed wetly.

He wondered how far Frank would go, the man wasn't evil he didn't think that he'd be able to kill in cold blood. But with the rage was unknown.

Eventually the blows stopped and Jim wasn't sure if it was because Frank had stopped or if had just stopped feeling. Either way he was injured too much to move, and was close to passing out.

Several more hits had come to his head and he was sure that the damage was serious. It was the type that made people go into comas. Having another one so close to the first one probably wasn't that good.

Jim couldn't bring himself to care. He lost track of time, waiting for that comforting pull of black.

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought there was spots flashing in his vision he saw someone run into the room. He figured it was Frank coming back to finish the job, maybe finally using the tire iron he'd threatened with. There was a mess of brown hair, which didn't make sense because Frank had red hair.

He was pretty sure he saw pointy ears as well. Though that might've been the head trauma speaking.

There was noise, and not the buzzing of the warp core (this noise cut through that sound) and this pain was nothing like that. Oh god, what if he this was just a symptom of radiation.

The noise grew louder and he thought that he could make out words. There were lips moving, but nothing was real. Or he was the unreal one considering he was an actual ghost or something like that.

He made out his name attached to another word, but before he could decipher what the word was the spots grew larger and he turned his attention to them. Wondering what their purpose was.

Whatever was buzzing started to grow mute, the spots grew larger covering the face he wasn't aware that he was seeing. Still he kept focusing on them like they held the keys to the universe. They eventually overtook his vision and even the pain he was feeling faded.

He knew this feeling. This was dying. Just as peaceful as the first time.

Run and don't look back, you'll survive that way. It was true, he'd kept running head straight, ignoring the ghosts of _George, Frank, Tarsus, Chicago_ as they tried to catch up to him.

He stopped running.

* * *

This time when sensation returned to him there was no movie reel of voices saying everything that had shaped him. He didn't have to traipse through the woods of Tarsus IV or tread the glass of broken bottles in the living room or reapply the concealer over a particularly nasty black eye Chicago gave him. There was no bloodied Pike or burn of radiation.

All it that he had to move through was a field of golden wheat and silver sky. There was a door at the other end, and he'd always been curious.

So he went towards it, part of him knew what it was (he was a genius after all), but the other part of him wondered.

If it was what he thought it was he wanted to know if he would run again or just roll with it like he had taken Frank's beating. He wanted to know what happened to Frank and why he was here and not bleeding out in the pit of a Romulan ship like last time.

The door pushed open easily, and suddenly he was surfacing, like jolting awake from a nightmare. Only he didn't fold into himself like he usually did after a nightmare. He didn't even gasp like the last time he returned from the dead.  
A place that he was finding he wanted to return to. It didn't look like that was happening for a long time, not while he was on the same planet as Bones or Spock, or even in the same quadrant. Likely while they were still alive.

What did he do to earn such loyalty other than run headlong into things that would get him killed. He'd be honored to have such men following him if he was pissed about being saved.

He cracked open an eye, enough he could see but onlookers wouldn't notice. The ceiling looked like the one he had woken up to weeks ago. Beeps and trills filled his head silencing the warp core. Clean air hit his nose instead of blood and vomit.

Definitely alive or the weirdest version of heaven ever. At least his body felt like it was floating, though he wanted to know how badly Frank had beaten him. To see what he had lived through again.

Something lower hit his ears and it took him a second to realize that it was a voice. Not just any voice, but it was Bones.

"...run off and get yourself beaten not even two weeks after you've been released. Barely made it again. Its like you have a goddamn death wish."

Jim realized that Bones didn't know he was awake.

"Doctor, perhaps it was a pyschlogical symptom presenting itself, the effects of Khan's blood are still unknown."

Spock sounded pissed. He would've raised an eyebrow if he wasn't playing dead- asleep.

"I want to think that but there was nothing wrong in his neuro scans, and I thought if he was planning to run off, he would've done it after Pike died."

He wanted to but getting revenge came first, besides he didn't run anymore at the point.

"It seems unlikely that the Captain would return to an environment such as that on his own free will."

"Spock, you don't know his story as well as you think you do. Kid, probably hasn't stopped running ever. He's run back there before."

Jim inwardly cringed, another reason dying seemed like the better option, Bones knew too much. He'd put it together faster than anyone, that master's in physcology wasn't for show. Even without the whole story.

"It is illogical."

"Jim's never been completely logical now has he?" Bones made a breathy sound.

"The captain has demonstrated sound logic on many occasions-"

"When he tells you his story one day, you'll know. You might not understand but it helps with the puzzle."

The painkillers were likely wearing off as he could feel the throb in his ankle and his head making an answering pulse that made him moan out.

"Jim?" "Captain?"

He opened his eyes fully, blinking slowly in away that reminded him of Frank that first night.

Bones was over him in a second, scanner in hand despite the bio-bed readouts. It was familiar.

"How do you feel?"

Which part of that question did he want to answer. Jim made to sigh only to think better of it and answering in a neutral way. "Pain."

Bones looked at the time. "They were late in giving you your medication, that's probably why you woke up. We've been keeping you induced so you can heal without much discomfort."

"Used to it." He mumbled.

The doctor pressed a few buttons and coolness flooded his veins. Belatedly JIm realized that he had completely ignored Spock's presence.

He turned to look at his Vulcan first officer. As stoic as always. The painkillers made his head feel fuzzy and pulled him back under before he could say anything. Though there weren't many words that came to mind. He'd let them ask and talk. At this time he had very few questions.

However, the drugs made him groggy and he lost the question as he fell asleep.

* * *

Waking up this time was much easier, no weightless or fuzzy head feeling or warp core buzzing. That was the most relieving thing. He'd been worried that it had been a permanent thing.

Bones and Spock were ready for him this time. The vulcan hung back while the former fiddled with the bio-bed. Briefly Jim's mind flitted to the rest of the senior bridge crew. they probably looked a lot like Bones did, maybe a little (or a lot) less haggard.

It seemed that Bones couldn't find anything else to do with the bed so he stepped back and looked at JIm. He stared back.

"Are you going to explain?"

Jim shrugged.

The doctor's hand twitched but otherwise kept himself under control. It's not like he wanted to make the doctor mad. He just had too many thoughts and couldn't express any of them. It wasn't an unusual thing, it happened often enough, it was just him taking in too many things and trying to process them, his thoughts just got tangled. Sometimes it was hard being a genius.

"Questions?"

The suggestion was surprising, but not unwelcome. Bones had come up with the game in their first year, it was to help him express his thoughts clearly in an organized paper. He called it some sort of training. It could help.

So he nodded slowly.

Bones pulled up a chair, Spock's eyebrow had gone up in polite intrigue.

"Does anything hurt?"

He shook his head minutely.

They always started with yes or no questions.

"Good. You okay with Spock being here?"

For the time being he was so he nodded.

"Hungry?"

His stomach clenched so he shook his head. Bones wrote something on his PADD.

"Thirsty?"

Once more he nodded.

Bones paused the game to help him drink from a glass. His throat felt better instantly. The water was set down before continuing.

"Are you able to talk?"

He didn't know, he thought that he could so he nodded.

"Will you?"

He nodded.

"Now?"

A shake of the head.

"Soon?"

Another nod, only after a few seconds of delay.

There were a few more general yes or no questions, then Bones let him go back to sleep.

* * *

The game continued almost directly as he came around the next time. Bones started with the easy yes or nos again. Getting to the point that the were last time.

"Are you going talk?"

Nod.

"Now?"

He took a deep breath. "Yeah."

Bones nodded this time apparently pleased. "Okay, do you know where you are?"

"Hospital."

"In?"

"Iowa."

One word answers were always the next step.

"Do you remember why you're here?"

Several answers popped into his head, wondering what one to use since the question never stated what here specifically. Why they moved to sentences, Bones would probably come back to this answer.

"Frank."

Spock straightened up. Jim figured that the vulcan had met him if his flaky vision was reliable in any sort of way. He was compiling his own questions for when he got a chance.

"Why'd he attack you?" Bones asked slowly.

"Angry."

Someone gave a sharp intake of breath, likely Bones. "About?"

"Mom."

The room fell silent. Bones knew about his mother, but that he ditched her funeral. He heard Bones tapping about on his PADD. So he turned to watch Spock. Even after Bones stopped writing, no one made to speak. Likely because Spock didn't know what to say (or really understand the significance of what he said) and Bones was likely thinking of a subject change. They'd delve into it deeper.

"Why'd you disappear?"

Bones probably already guessed the answer, but he'd have to verbalize.

"Running."

"From?"

Jim swallowed wondering what he should say, was he running from himself, from what happened, or was he running to something, his end maybe?

"Everything." Seemed to cover it fairly well.

"Why?"

That wasn't something he count anser in one word, not even as a prompt for later on. He shook his head and Bones made note of it. Part of him wanted to end the session now, but the other part of him wanted to finish the one words so he could be done with this whole thing.

Bones, however leaned back and signaled the end instead.

Jim settled down and without the help of the drugs his skin was prickling as he was being watched. His heart rate started picking up.

Bones was up and adding something in the IV bag. Something he was grateful for. He hated hypos. Slowly the prickling of his skin decreased as he calmed down and didn't say anything more.

* * *

Spock was gone the next time he woke up. Bones was back in his chair.

"Sent him out. He doesn't know anything so I didn't want him interrupting to ask about things."

There was an unspoken request that Bones wanted him to tell Spock about his past. Spock reacting? Are you sure I'm the one needing therapy? He wanted to say.

Bones saw it on his face. "You didn't see him after."

Jim shut up, fighting the urge to shrink into himself. He knew what _after_ was.

"Sorry." Bones frowned. "So why did you run of this time?"

"Because it was too much."

"How so?"

"Spock about to let himself die, losing the ship, Pike dying, Scotty left, Starfleet tried to start a war, the crew nearly died, I died."

Bones nodded, Jim remembered that the doctor had been worried about his vitals. "So you needed space?"  
"Maybe." He doubted the other side of the galaxy was enough space.

"Why Frank?"

"I always go back."

"Why?"

Jim shrugged lightly. "It's my starting line."

The doctor arched an eyebrow. "Meaning?"

"I've always run. Kept running to survive."

Bones knew that, they'd talked about it before.

"But Frank, you did know that he'd attack you, if he was that angry about something, right?"

"Nothing new, was hoping for it."

"Nothing new?" The question wasn't directed at him so Jim didn't answer. "What does that mean?"

Jim realized, belatedly, that Bones only knew about Frank's drinking and verbal abuse. "C'mon Bones, he was an asshole. Not the first time I've needed to be in a hospital because of him."

"Why didn't you fight back?" Bones was clearly putting that topic on the back burners for now.

But his question was the million dollar one. "Didn't want to."

"Gonna need more than that." There was a sharp edge to his voice now, but it was more breathless than a growl.

The heat kicked on startling Jim, the noise was too close to the buzzing. He went completely still.

"Jim?" Bones whispered. "Come back. It's okay. You're safe. It's fine."

Maybe it was because he was feeling the tightening of his skin and hearing the buzzing in his head, but he found that his lips were loosened.

"I was dead. I was done. I could've stopped running."

"Jim..."

He was on a roll now. "I could've stopped. No more Tarsus or Frank or Chicago or George biting at my heels."

Bones looked surprised, he'd let things slip. _He knows, he's gonna leave..._

The buzzing was stronger now and he was whispering something he didn't even know. Behind him alarms blared indicating his rapid breathing.

Those weren't medical alarms any more but the klaxons on the ship. The Enterprise was dead. They were falling. They failed. He failed. _Oh god._

He was suddenly in the room with the misaligned warp core that sparked sporadically. He kicked at it and a white so bright he should've been blinded flared across his vision.

Now he was seeing his opaque reflection and watching Spock watch him. Was he crying? Did he cry?

A gentle hand to his shoulder landed on his own which had made its way to his hair and was pulling.

He looked into Bones' eyes, they were wide and mostly filled with concern and fear. Fear for him.

"I don't deserve this." He breathed out.

"You don't." Bones replied in the same manner.

He thought that Bones was talking about something else because that far too callous for even for the doctor.

"A second chance given to me is what got Pike killed. What am I going to do with this one?"

"That was Khan not you."

"If I hadn't stopped that fucking volcano Pike wouldn't have been in that room."

"And what? Let an entire race die? Let Spock die?" Bone snapped.

"No."

"You can't save everyone." This time his voice was softer.

"I can try." He was proud that his voice didn't shake.

"And you do, but sometimes you have to stop and save yourself."

"This wasn't the life any of were meant to have. This wasn't the life _I_ was supposed to have."

"So? This is the one you have. Use it. Don't just run away!"

"That's all I know how to do." For the first time since waking up in Starfleet medical spoke louder than a whisper.

He closed his eyes, afraid of Bones' reaction.

"Then learn how to ask for help. Dammit Jim."

He wasn't looking at Bones but the catch in his voice was unmistakable.

"I can't."

Bones likely narrowed his eyes.

"I don't want help." It was the plainest truth he could speak.

"Then why'd you let me help you at the academy that night or why do you listen to Spock and Uhura when they tell you to rest or go to Scotty and drink after a too close call or spar with Sulu when you're pissed at the universe or why do you go to Chekhov or me when your mind is going a hundred miles per hour? Why?" Bones was panted, having said that all in one breath.

Jim wasn't sure what to say.

"A person who doesn't want help wouldn't do that." Bones voice was quiet. "Jim...just...your life has given you a lot of crap, and you've dealt with it all. Lean on someone."

He paused to take a breath. "You don't get how much everyone worried-"

"I'm sorry-"

Bones held up a hande. "They all want to be there for you, they all want to be in this room but hospital policy. Even Spock."

"The doctor is correct."

Jim turned his head quickly wincing at the twinge. He hadn't noticed Spock at all which unnerved him slightly. How much had he heard? Jim turned to look at his first officer. As usual there was nothing to give him any hints as to what was going on in his thoughts. The only times he had seen the vulcan (half-vulcan) express any emotion was when he was purposefully compromised emotionally and the warp core.

Suddenly the room was filled with an awkward air and he shifted uneasily. Jim glanced continuously between Spock and Bones, neither indicating that they were going to start talking again.

So he spoke up, before his mind went reeling back to the last time it was awkward between the three of them. The shuttle ride right after Pike's death.

"How'd you find me so fast?"

Spock answered. "After you failed to report to the admiral, she contacted me inquiring about your wellbeing. In return I contacted Doctor McCoy with the same question."

"And you just guessed that I'd be in Iowa, of all places?"

"It was not entirely a guess, it a hypothetical scenario in which you would return to a familiar place. We were tapped into those area's facial recognition software."

Jim raised a brow. Bones was able to interpret the gesture.

"A lot of medical jargon, as you would call it, explaining the necessity of finding out, and the 'fleet was more than willing to find its golden boy."

He winced at the moniker. "But I was in Iowa for days before you got here?"

"The servers went down, thanks to damage and an automatic update that they couldn't fix thanks to the chaos. It took them a day to reboot it and even longer to work out the bugs in the data streaming or something."

Jim nodded, he recalled having read a report involving that update. It had said ground communication was out and so they would would need to relay their information to the space-doc if they needed something. The message had also said to inform the crew of the potential lapse in communication and that it wasn't anything to be worried about. _Oh,_ he'd forgotten to do that.

"Hey, you with us?"

"Yeah," Jim closed his eyes tightly and fluttered them open "uh, you were saying?"

"You're the one that asked the question." Bones grumbled. "So anyway the moment that the sensors were back online they sent the message to Spock that you'd been seen in some convenience store in Iowa, well that was the most recent detection. Wasn't hard to figure out where you were coming from or heading to."

"But I was on the farm not in town."

"Its called Kirk Ranch. Now I may not have the logical reasoning skills of your first officer, but I was confident in my guess."

 _Valid point._ "So what'd Frank do when you showed up?"

"Frank slammed the door in our face. He looked like a man who had something to head. Whatever happened had him spooked. I told Spock that and he kicked the door in."

"Overkill much?"

"Doctor McCoy had been expressing increasing levels anxiety once he'd learned that you returned to Iowa. He had informed me of your Step-Father's history of alcoholism and verbal abuse, on the grounds that it could be pertinent to the investigation."

"Did he tell you about the short temper too?" He asked bitterly.

Spock inclined his head. "That was mentioned."

Jim could tell that Spock was still agitated about the encounter. Which was odd considering grudges were apparently illogical.

"So I can imagine Frank was pretty pissed when you Starsky and Hutch'ed the door. How was that?"

Clearly he was the only one that understood that reference. "Kicked open the door?"

"As you said, Mr. Sullivan is prone to anger and had recently consumed copious amounts of alcohol, and I moved to keep him from interfering."

"While Spock was tangling with Frank, I started poking around, seeing if you'd were there and returning or if you had already bolted." His voice dropped lower. "Imagine my surprise when I found you how I found you."

There wouldn't have been any time for surprise, he was too good of a doctor and Starfleet officer for that. But Bones would've been off-kilter for all of two seconds and then doctor mode would've slammed into full. He would start working to repair what damage he could as well as stabilizing for transport. It was a familar routine.

Bones was the best doctor he'd ever seen and he wasn't saying that because they were best friends, that was the only reason that Bones was allowed to be CMO under him, because he was able to throw everything aside and work to make the patient better. He'd be able to call it on anyone. Including Jim if he had to (and Jim is working on the belief that Khan's super blood was the only reason Bones hadn't called it).

He was still miffed about the resurrection thing.

"You've scrapped me up from enough bar fights." Downplay it, act like your normal self.

"Dammit Jim, that's different. If I don't see it happen, which I usually do, I see the defensive wounds. There wasn't a single mark on Frank, then I walk into a room and see you with a puddle of blood forming underneath your head which was mostly dry, uneven breath with fluid filled coughs, and your ankle turned the wrong way. Meaning head trauma, punctured lung and at the very least a dislocated ankle."

"From just a few seconds."

"I'm good at what I do."

Jim didn't feel the need to say what he was thinking earlier, but Bones always deserved praise. "Yeah, you are."

Which reminds him he still hadn't gotten the full damage report yet.

There was silence for a few seconds, Spock had stepped away from the bed, clearly letting Bones and him have their discussion. Last time he'd been in a medical bed Spock had taken up all of his time. Now it was reversed.

Bones did his shift-sigh-shift that meant he didn't like what was about to come out of his mouth. Jim turned his eyes to the doctor, he assumed that it was a good thing that he was lucid enough now to be observant but still out of it enough he couldn't slam his mental shields to full. Which would happen if he kept healing physically.

"So what did you do that made him so mad that he nearly beat you to death after not seeing you for years?"

Jim sighed. He wanted to be left alone so he didn't have to answer these questions. But after what he did to these guys they deserved to know. Maybe it would be enough that he'd finally be alone. Meaning he could finally die.

"My mom."

"So you've said. What about her?"

"The last time I went back was for two reasons. One was to get away from Chicago, and the other one was to go to my mom's funeral."

"Don't tell me you acted out?"

From the corner of his eye he could see Spock grow more interested in the conversation.

"No." He took a deep breath. "She had it rough after the Kelvin, and it got worse after Sam left."

"Sam?"

Fuck. "Yeah, anyway instead of going to her funeral, which I had all intentions of going, I joined Starfleet."

"You were on the shuttle instead of being with your family and mourning?" Bones asked, his tone was gentle, he wasn't judging (he never judged.)

"Yeah."

"So Frank was upset about you ditching."

"He did love her." As if that was an excuse.

"He nearly _killed_ you _."_ It wasn't anger, but Jim didn't know that emotion.

"I told you, I was done!" He answered back. "I was _dead._ You can't come back from that."

"But you did." Bones' voice was soft.

"You have escaped death 25.8 times since joining Starfleet. It is only logical that you would escape again." Spock chimed in.

Jim fell silent. "It's a second chance I don't want. Don't deserve."

"If the universe didn't want you back. It would've made Uhura be a second later, and if you didn't want it then the treatment would've failed."

"Doctor, I do not think that person's whim can beat medical science." Spock tilted his head.

Bones didn't even make a quip at him. "They can. I've seen physically healthy people fade away after they've been healed and I've seen people come back from all medical possibility."

Spock's eyebrow twitched, but didn't respond.

Jim pressed his lips together tightly. It was true that the past few years of his life had been so much better than his entire life, but enough to change his primary rule?

Time for a topic change, but he'd file that thought away for a future introspection.

"So we've talked but you've never given me the full injury report and diagnosis."

Bones switched from complete friend mode to his doctor-friend hybrid mode. "You came in with a skull fracture, three broken ribs, a dislocated and fractured ankle, a punctured lung, and a dislocated wrist. You were also suffering from blood loss and dehydration. There was a mild abrasion patch on the back of your throat as well."

There was a pause and then the doctor continued on. "I'm also diagnosing you with post-traumatic stress disorder."

"Already have that." Jim quipped.

Bones sent him a look. "It wasn't officially diagnosed, so I'm diagnosing it since you are showing signs of it."

The emotional toll of the day came quickly and Jim blinked rapidly trying to clear the sleep away since he knew he wouldn't be able to fall asleep with someone else in the room, so instead he focused on a spot on the wall until both Spock and Bones left, and even then he kept staring at it. As if it knew the answer to his problems.

* * *

When he woke the next time he woke up slowly, this time thanks to the drugs (they had to be the stronger ones since he had forced himself to stay away through sever weaker doses), but it was slow enough to become aware that he wasn't alone.

"Will he be able to resume his position as captain?"

"Not at the moment." Bones' voice was heavy. "He was pretty badly injured, and he's also recovering from anaphylactic shock because we found another medicine he's allergic too, and I don't know how stable he actually is, emotionally and mentally speaking,"

"However it is possible that he could recover. The senior crew wishes for some good news. Mr. Scott is creative and Nyota is determined and I feel as though they have created an alliance to learn something of the captain's condition."

Jim wanted to laugh. That was quite a team and there was likely nothing that would stop them from getting what they wanted. He briefly wondered how many times his senior crew had visited him in those two weeks. The only reason they weren't here was because of the press and not wanting to arouse attention

"Possible, yes. It'll only be a few days before he's physically well enough to be released. He'll be under home observation. Mentally... he has had experience with PTSD, so chances are he can learn to live with it." Bones lowered his voice. "It all depends on him." Huh.

"Starfleet will promote him and let him retire. The choice is on him."

He didn't react physically, though he wanted to make some movement. Circumstances were letting him have a choice, and he wouldn't just have to run? He settled back down on the bed he'd have to think on it.

* * *

The next few times he was awake he didn't respond to either of them.

* * *

Jim hadn't slept since Bones and Spock's conversation, just drifting in and out of awareness. This time when he became aware he thought was alone, it confused him. It was several seconds before he heard the soft breathing. Turning his head he cringed at the awkward angle of Bones' neck. He hoped the doctor hadn't slept like that the entire time. Carefully he nudged the doctor.

"Wha'?"

"Bones."

"Jim, you woke up." He said rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Yeah. Did I sleep all day?" He knew the answer to the question, but he had to know if Bones had noticed.

"Pretty much, it's only about eight at night. But that means your body is healing." Bones' voice was lower than it had been. Maybe the doctor was finally relaxing now that Jim was out of danger.

"You know," Bones started, his drawl becoming prominent and his voice tight as if the words were stuck in his throat. "when you took off, disappeared from the face of the earth, I thought maybe it was some grand hallucination caused by grief. That Khan's blood didn't work and I was thinking you pulled through when the opposite was false."

Bones' face changed into one that Jim knew as the 'I-shouldn't-have-said-anything' face.

"I didn't mean anything by it." He mumbled. It wasn't his goal to hurt anyone, it never hurt anyone before, to him this time shouldn't have been any different.

"I know. I know your past, parts of it at least. You have a habit of running, I've stopped you a few times if I recall correctly.

Jim nodded. It was true, there was nothing he could say to that.

"You'll have to do therapy if you decide to return to active duty." The words were said quickly.

Jim knew that it was Bones' way of showing that he was dropping a topic, either temporarily or not.

He knew it was coming. Any captain that got diagnosed with a mental illness or was deemed "emotionally compromised" had to be assessed and treated. If they passed the evaluation then they were free to carry on if they didn't they were given the suggestion (order) to resign. In some cases they just had to remain off of active duty until they passed. Honestly, he didn't think he'd be able to pass their standards. Not at the moment. It was all too fresh, too much. He'd said as much so it'd help him if he did decide to go through with it. For once he was grateful that he had avoided the therapy offered to the Tarsus IV survivors, it had been 'fleet endorsed.

"And if I don't?"

"Do the therapy?"

"No, well kind of. If I don't return to active duty." It was for his own peace of mind. Would he get to make the choice? Run and survive or stay and have a life?

Bones' arched a brow but answered nonetheless. "You'll have to send in your resignation and promote Spock to active captain.

Jim's eyes widened. That was it? "You'd let me?"

"If you feel that's the best option then yes."  
The best option had been what he'd always done, it had always been to run. Now, he didn't know what was best. "But what if I didn't know?"

Bones nodded slowly. "I figure you have a year before you have to choose."

"Why a year?"

"They have to repair the Enterprise."

Oh yeah. She was badly damaged. "Okay."

It was all he really needed to say.

* * *

He made his choice in the seventh month. Jim was helping Spock with some grading (most of the senior crew had decided to fill their time with research or teaching part time).

If he was going to run he would've done it at the first chance that he got.

"Hey Spock?"

"Yes Jim?"

"Do you want to be captain of the Enterprise?"

Spock was quiet for a few minutes before answering, Jim knew he was just weighing the words but already knew the answer.

"I do have the ambition to do so, however, I do not wish to be in that position for a while yet."

The good thing about Vulcans was they can't lie.

"Why's that? It's only logical that you would want to get as much time as a captain as you can on your record."

"Logical yes, yet it would imply that you were no longer captain."

Yeah, Vulcans couldn't lie. What Spock said, it struck a chord with him. He nodded thinking deeply.

Spock had deemed the conversation over. He went back to grading and Jim set his stack of worksheets down, picking apart his thoughts as he did so, trying to form them into language. He'd have to clear the psych eval, which might be the hardest part of the entire thing, though easier than it would've been seven months ago. The attacks had lessened in severity and frequency, but it was unknown was set them off.

"I'm not resigning."

The Vulcan looked up sharply _almost_ a movement of surprise. Jim figured that the senior crew and maybe the rest of the crew had been waiting on who they were going to follow into the black. Either him or Spock. Spock was probably the most anxious about his decision.

"Will you be requesting to take command of the Enterprise?" Currently she didn't have a captain or a crew.

"Of course. Can't let anyone else captain her. Look at what happened when I left her." It was good he could make jokes about, even if it made his mouth turn dry and his tongue taste metallic.

"Have you informed anyone else of your decision?"

He looked over at the vulcan, mouth turning upwards. "Nope. I just made it after all."

That was almost an eye roll, it iris barely moved. He counted it as a win.

"I suggest you do not keep the others in the dark for much longer, the admiralty as well."

Plans had already been bouncing around his head on how to do it. Grabbing his PADD he saw the psychiatrist message informing him of an opening for an appointment. Once he confirmed that he moved to renew his contract and place himself on active duty, he could do that, he was seeing a professional now.

The therapy would go smoothly (it had to) so long as they didn't delve too deeply into certain things. Besides, he had Bones and Spock and everyone else as a support structure.

* * *

That night when he went back to his apartment he did his nightly routine and checked his PADD before going to bed. He had several messages.

He started from the oldest, which happened to be Uhura.

_Welcome back Captain._

Simple, but no less meaningful. Sulu was next.

_Back on active duty finally, Doctor McCoy really made you pay this time, but really, glad to have you back._

He laughed. Good ol' Sulu, still had the fear of the doctor in him from last year's physical. Then it was Chekhov's message.

_Happy to hear you're coming back Captain!_

His sime from Sulu's message stayed strong through Chekhov's and only grew larger. The fourht message was from Scotty.

_'Bout time. I was worried the Lady would be sailing under someone else. Welcome back._

Scotty's words were friendly, and he probably didn't think about the words, and maybe Jim was reading too much into it but there was an underlying message. Everyone was back in their proper spots. He switched to the final message.

_Guess that means I'm going back out there, thanks. But I'm glad it's under your command. Wait... Please tell me you sighed up with Doctor Edwards before switching back to active._

Jim had to set down the PADD and rub at his eyes. He hadn't expected the crew to find out so quickly (or send him messages all at once) and welcome him back so warmly. They'd nearly been killed under his command. Briefly he thought about what the old Spock had shown him, how the crew had committed treason in order to help him out: Scotty had damaged a starship for him and he felt all of their grief when he died (in that universe). So maybe it wasn't that hard to believe (for anyone else it'd be clear as day), but they weren't those same people, not really. It'd have to do, and it was more than enough.

He reached down and picked up his PADD, and sent a message to everyone.

_I'm back and better than ever._

And he was. He could finally stop running, he didn't need to survive anymore because now he could start living.

**Author's Note:**

> Pointless and long and filled with all that Jim Kirk angst. Yay me! Leave your thoughts below. But seriously, I put this kid through way to much, at least the AOS him. Expect more on his past, because I just picked up the autobiography of Jim Kirk in the OS series so maybe I can find something there to transfer over. Anywho. Later! ~IF  
> P.S. Be on the look out for the other parts~


End file.
